


Evolution

by GreatWhiteShark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Family, F/M, Moonflower Continuation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: Prince Lotor scours the universe for his beloved and learns a new lesson about life.[Lotor x Reader][Moonflower Series "Good" Continuation]





	1. Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Lotor's nose leads him to his beloved.

 

  


 

Darwinism states that the evolution of a species relies solely on survival of the fittest.

 

In every planet Lotor has visited, he kept an open mind about this theory. He watched lives flourish and  _perish_ by the cruel hand of time. He watched species suffer in  _starvation_ , watched the most influential societies crumble by  _disease_. After all his observations, he learned that survival of the fittest did not apply to the  _strongest_. It applied to those who  **adapted**.

 

“We will be arriving at Planet Falerd soon, my lord,” Acxa stated, tapping on the holo-screen to bring up an image of the planet, “According to our latest intelligence, most of the base is fortified underground. It doesn’t seem like they have improved much.”

 

“Ladies,” Lotor spoke while sitting straighter in his captain’s seat, “Let us take a calmer approach to this, yes? You know  **who** I am looking for. Ezor, Narti, find their main headquarters and scan their civilian profiles as well as any information that can be used against them. Acxa, Zethrid, and I will take to the streets.”

 

All were silent at his orders. Have they done this before?  _Yes_ , purely for conquering planets. Lotor’s plan was not the norm. They were only to find information and leave the place undisturbed. Chances of survival would dwindle the longer they stayed, so the faster they acted, the  _faster_ they could leave. Was his plan questionable?  _Absolutely_. Who would want to stay in a planet full of enslaved half-breeds?

 

Especially one on the brink of civil  **war**?

 

Prince Lotor would if it meant putting him on the right path to finding  _you_.

 

* * *

 

They were being watched.

 

Ever since they set foot on the empty dirt path, Lotor and his generals knew eyes were carefully regarding them from every direction. Acxa to his left, Zethrid his right, the Prince had figured the cover of night would conceal their presence. His first mistake. The cloak hooding his form did little to brush off the feeling of being observed and once they stepped into a bar, he thought perhaps his guise could have used a more  _normalized_ look.

 

Everyone inside were half-breeds at most. Dressed in clothes ranging from tatters to expertly crafted armor. Lotor sat at the wooden bar stool as the public went about their business. Observation was the key here. Zethrid eyed the brutes, the ones who glanced over and looked for a challenge. Acxa sought out exit points should their mission go awry.

 

“What can I get for you folks?” the bartender at least was nice, “If you’re looking for a few nice and cozy rooms, we do have vacancy.”

  
  
“Actually, that would be splendid. We are weary from traveling and came here in search of joining the resistance,” Lotor spoke calmly, “My colleagues and I have information which may help tip the  **war**.”

 

Now, the air around the bartender was on  **alert**. Lotor saw how he tilted his head up, as if  _challenging_ these strangers who just so conveniently stumbled upon his humble doorstep. A cup of water was placed before the Prince and the man leaned on the counter, eyes studying Lotor’s for any hint of deception. You live long enough serving people and you tend to be able to see lies with only a  _single_ look.

 

“You have a name, friend?”

 

“Lotor. My name is  **Prince** Lotor.”

 

The bartender crossed his arms, “We don’t serve your kind here, your  _highness_.”

 

His kind. Half-breeds? Or something  _more_? There was something insidious under that tone he used, something further than hatred. Further than  **murderous**. Lotor knows that blame.  _You and your royal family can **fuck off.**  You are not welcome here. This  **war** is because of your father, Zarkon. _Except, Lotor was not here to end this war for the planet. He was here for his own agenda.

 

“I urge you to reconsider. I am not your enemy here -”

 

“We. Do.  **Not**. Serve your kind here.”

 

Seeing that there was no budging, Lotor offered a respectable bow before pushing off the seat. His generals followed closely, but he was not as perturbed as some would think. The Prince offered his help and he could not force others to accept it. He could not force others to see that he was a powerful ally in this war, but their judgement was, of  _course_ , clouded by his past. Or rather, his  _father’s_ past.

 

No matter. Soon enough, Ezor and Narti would have the data he needed and -

 

The second he was outside, Lotor’s nose  _ **twitched**_ at a familiar scent. One he has not sniffed since eons ago.

 

He halted his step and his eyes widened in pure  _shock_. It was faint, but his loudly-beating heart recognized it well enough to  _force_ adrenaline to rush through his veins. Lotor was stiff,  _frozen_ on the spot, and his fingers had gone numb when a single image of your face flashed through his mind. You were  **here**. There was no way his nose, his  **heart** , was wrong.

 

It was your  _spice_.

 

The Prince’s glowing eyes spotted a figure in the dark alleyway. As soon as he saw the cloak, it was gone, just a wisp of his imagination. No, his sight did not lie to him, and his instincts to find the  **truth** kicked him to run down the alley. His soul was tugging him,  _urging_ him to follow, to catch, to  _ **pin**_ like those olden days in the field of moon flowers. He didn't even hear Zethrid and Acxa call for him, but like loyal generals, they followed his pursuit.

 

Or rather,  _tried_ to. Through twists and turns in the alleys, Lotor was too fast in his chase, and they lost sight of him soon enough. This was not Lotor the analyst, the planner, the calculating  _strategist_. This was Lotor, the man so blinded by just a whiff of his soul mate, that all  _logic_ and  _reasoning_ flew out the window. Acxa and Zethrid glanced at each other before opening up their locator map.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, my  **love**!”

 

Lotor, even in all his long-legged glory, could not catch up to the figure getting farther and farther away from him. He tried using his booster jets, but it only helped so far in the cramped alleyways and they stunted him during every corner he turned. It wasn’t until he came across a dead end did his heart drop heavily into the pit of his stomach. That was  _you_ , it had to be, so why did you not stop?

 

Where did  _you_ go? And why did you not  **wait** for him?

 

He will  _NOT_ lose you again. Lotor took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on every scent around him. The dampness of the stone floors, soft wind carrying the musk of the city and...up there, your aroma was  _above_ him! Snapping his eyes open, he looked up just in time to see the figure falling towards him with a glint of a dagger shining in the night. Not just  _any_ dagger, either. He  _knew_ that amethyst glow radiating from the intricate vines like the back of his hand.

 

Battle instincts kicked in and he dodged easily enough, leaping off to the side and out of the attacker’s aim. Lotor took a second to study who he  **thought** was you. Yes, the scent was the same, but everything else pointed that this person? This significantly shorter person? It  _couldn't_ be you. He took a defensive stance and summoned his broadsword, eyes narrowing at his opponent.

 

“How did you come across that blade?” the Prince asked, no,  _demanded_.

 

The only thing he could think was that his assailant stole it from you. Without sparing an answer, the warrior charged at Lotor, aiming to slash at his ankles to throw him off balance. It would have worked if the Prince hadn’t stepped back in the nick of time. Fast, he had to act  _fast_ in the face of his attacker, so the Prince swung his sword in an upward slash to force a little distance between them both.

 

Lotor’s brows lowered as his contracting eyes adjusted in the night to see  _who_ this was. However, they did not allow him a second to spare before rushing once more at him. With the skills he gained over 10,000 years of battling, the Prince blocked,  _parried_ , and  **deflected** the dagger. When the opportune moment came, he swiftly brought his other hand to yank down the hood from the cloaked figure. Cosmic,  ** _amethyst_** eyes glowing a faint  _yellow_ glared icily back at him.

 

Lotor  _faltered_ , jaw  **dropping** , and he  _swore_ he was staring at a mirror image of  _ **himself**_.

 

That second of hesitation was the only opening the boy needed before he twisted his wrist and  **stabbed** Lotor in the thigh. The sickening squelch and  _excruciating_ pain forced a scream from his throat, closer to a roar than anything else. The Prince snarled, stumbled back and fell to the floor as angry, incredulous eyes still locked on the boy with  _silver_ locks and  _lavender_ skin.

 

He had your scent...and his  **own**.

 

The child’s hardened, unfazed glower flicked to behind Lotor and before he could turn his head, something blunt  _smashed_ against his cranium. The force had him slamming to the ground with a pained groan and all he saw before fading to black was a pair of boots. His son’s boots. His  _son_. He had a  ** _son_**. After all this time searching for you, he never thought his own kin would be the one to find him first.

 

“Good job, kid. Let’s get him back to base.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s arms were tethered around your waist, keeping your back flushed against his chest while the two of you were high atop a quartberry tree. Somehow, up here, the air felt cooler,  _free_ , and the stars seemed more closer than ever. So  _close_ , he felt as if he can pluck one out of the sky and weave it into your hair. One by one, like a crown surrounding the moon, his  **moon**.

 

“Open,” you plucked a berry from a vine and held it up to his lips, which he gladly parted for the sweet and juicy treat.

 

The smitten Prince placed his chin on your shoulder, cheek and nose nuzzling the curve of your neck affectionately.  _I demand you feed me more, my dear._  Your free hand came up to cup his smooth jaw and caressed the soft skin lovingly. A little something to appease him for now. It worked when you felt the vibrations from his chest, letting you know he was  _purring_ like a happy, little Galtean.

 

“I believe the stars are jealous tonight, my love,” he whispered into your ears, completely love-sick with how you fit perfectly in his arms, “I stole their  **moon**. And I do not plan on giving her  _back_.”

 

You turned your head to face him, eyes brimming with affection, growing and flourishing and  _blooming_ for him. Lotor, unable to tame his desires, his wants  _and_ needs, leaned forward to close the space between you two. Berry stained lips sealed with yours, teasing and tasting each other in comfortable silence. He gently prodded your mouth,  _permit me, darling_ , and explored familiar territory when you granted him slick access.

 

Lotor did not need the stars, the  _sky_ , the  _ **galaxy**_ , when he already had the  **moon** wrapped in his hold.

 

* * *

 

“Lotor?”

 

His ears twitched as his consciousness, blurred and fuzzy, slowly started coming back to the realm of the living. His head was throbbing in bruising pain and he would not be surprised if he was bleeding back there. Although, part of him did not want to wake up. He wanted to go back to sleep, go back to dreaming about  _you_ and naming constellations in the sky. Lotor’s head was so clouded, but the voices,  _oh_ , they ushered him to open his dreary eyes.

 

“ ** _The_  **Prince Lotor?”

 

“Yes, we can use him. He’s sedated, we can negotiate an exchange with - hey, where are you going?”

 

Lotor groaned as his heavy head lolled to the side. Was that voice...the one calling his name, that was  _you_. It had to be. It sent the same pleasurable shivers down his spine from those many years ago. The sound of a sheet flapping caught his sluggish attention and a figure quickly rushed to his slumped, shackled form. The Prince was seeing double, but it was a miracle he was seeing _at all,_  and when his face was tilted up by a gentle hand, his heart stopped,  _ached_ ,  _ **screamed**_ blessed praises in his chest.

 

It was  _you_.  **You** , in all your ethereal glory.  _ **You**_ , gazing down at him with eyes swimming in a mix of terrified doubt and blissful happiness.

 

He should have felt relief, but all Lotor felt at that miraculous moment was heartache, like a gaping wound on his soul was  _finally_ being stitched close with the threads of fate. His spirit was dancing in joy, though he could not  _feel_ it. Too drugged, every part of his body was limp, but  _stars_ , he wanted to hold you. Lotor needed to feel you,  _somehow_ , in any way. He was weeping from being so close to you, after all this time, and he couldn’t embrace you like every atom in his body wanted to.

 

No. No,  _wait_ , that was not his tears. The droplets were falling from your face to stain his cheeks, one by one, and your chest was heaving from the storm of emotions. You knelt down and  ** _crushed_** him in a hug, wrapped your arms tightly around his torso and clutched onto your lost lover for dear life. Lotor rolled his head to rest on your shoulder, the closest he could be while restrained, and buried his face in the familiar slope of your neck. You were trembling like a leaf in the winds of destiny.

 

“ **Lotor**...My L- _Lotor_ , it’s really you? Am I -  _stars_ , I - Lotor,  ** _Lotor_** …!“

 

You were choking on your words, cradling his head to your chest, and he tried so hard to will away the darkness fading in from the corner of his eyes. No,  _no_ , he didn't - he  **couldn't** pass out again. What if this was a dream? What if he woke up and you weren’t there? Lotor willed his body to make a sound,  _anything_ , and all he could release was a throaty groan. You  _heard_ him. Your arms reached around to release the cuffs around his wrist and the split second he was free, he slumped against you weakly like a rag doll.

 

“I’ve got you, Lotor. I - I’m  _here_.”

 

* * *

 

Dayak watched the young Prince bring down the hammer with exquisite strength and accuracy. The heated steel on the anvil sparked purple, little embers flicking off before fading into nothingness. Lotor was sweating, the furnace harboring the amethyst flame was burning just as  _vibrant_  as his soul. His dedication, his  _loyalty_ , his unwavering  **commitment** to pour all of his feelings into this one weapon.

 

She was no expert in smithing, but even her sharp eyes could see how Lotor wanted this dagger, this moon blade, to be  _perfect_ in every angle and aspect.

 

Lotor continued his work then dipped the weapon in water, removed it and inspected the edges in detailed scrutiny, “...I did it. It is finished. This is the  **one** , Dayak.”

 

Dayak did not need to judge his work. This symbol of love was not something to be judged by anyone, not her, not the Empire’s greatest  _blacksmiths_ , not even  **Zarkon** himself. Her studious gaze saw him etch a poem on the side, letters faintly spelling “Moon” and she could not help but feel a bit of satisfaction flourish in her chest. So, he  _has_ been keeping up with his poetic readings.

 

“Remember, my Prince, once you infuse your quintessence with it, the glow will only stay lit as long as your feelings are  ** _true_**.”

 

Lotor nodded in affirmation and, without flinching in  _any_ hesitation whatsoever, he pricked his finger with the tip of the moon blade. The blood trailed down the length of it before a soft, radiant violet glow entwined through the hilt. His prideful smile could not stretch any wider. He was excited,  _positively_ giddy to offer you this, offer you his entire mind,  _body_ , and  _ **soul**_ with open hands.

 

Now, he just needed the right  **time** to do so.

 

* * *

 

Prince Lotor snapped his eyes open from the memory. Metal ceiling, window open just enough to let the night air in, he was in somewhere  _unfamiliar_. His usual armor was shed from his body and that alone put him on high alert. He tensed up, but there was a sharp stinging sensation in his thigh reminding him that he was in no state to move at all. When did he - the dagger. The moon blade. That  _boy_.

 

##  **You**.

 

Movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention and, there, sitting on a chair with one leg pressed against his chest, was the boy. No, not  _any_ boy. Those nebulous eyes belonged to him, to  _Lotor_. This was his  **son**. From the pointed ears to the suspicious frown cemented on his lips. Even in the way he was using the moon blade to pick at his retracted claws.

 

Lotor was still stunned to his soul that this being before him proved he was a  **father**. He could not even formulate the right  _words_ in his mouth. All mannerisms, his articulate silver tongue,  **all** of it left him in the face of his son glaring daggers at him. The Prince brushed it off easily. He was more shaken to his core at how beautiful, how  **handsome** , he was. His  **child**.

 

“Mama!” he even  _sounded_ like Lotor, “He’s awake!”

 

The sound of rushed footsteps echoed the small room and you appeared at the doorway, clearly flushed from running. A hand over your chest to settle your rapidly beating heart.  _Calm down, he is here, alive and well._  It didn’t stop the overflow of emotions to make you bead with tears. You had spent hours by his side, crying in happiness and relief and sadness and  **everything** in between. You took a few shaky steps closer to the bed, both of you worried this was all a  _sick_ illusion.

 

Stars and moon above, he couldn’t  **believe** his eyes. His  ** _family_** was here.

 

“Atlas, will you give us some privacy, please?”

 

“But Mama! He’s  _dangerous_! He tried to  _ **attack**_ me!”

 

“Atlas,” you placed a soft hand on his shoulder, “My son, my  _warrior_ , it will only be for a few moments.”

 

Atlas. That was his name.  _ **Atlas**_. It was  _perfect_ and Lotor was proud of him, despite only meeting him at the ends of a blade. The boy narrowed his eyes to near slits now,  _scrutinizing_  the Galtean laying on his Mama’s bed. No way he trusted him alone with  _HIS_ mother, but he was a good boy and would listen.  _For now._  Atlas crossed his arms,  _pouted_ , then slipped off the chair and left the room.

 

Lotor watched him go, a big part of his instincts wanting him to  _stay_. It was your hand gently grasping his which garnered his full attention.  _Forgive him. He is...protective. Like someone I know. Like his father._  You were sitting on the bed, eyes flicking to every part of his face as he did the same. Your hair, it was longer, a little more wild, but he assumed that was not by personal choice. Both of you had aged,  _grown_ , and it was clear as day that your feelings were still just as  **strong**. He saw it behind your choked smile.

 

“My  ** _moon_** ,” his voice was thick, “I…”

 

The Prince pushed his body to sit up and pull you into a  _suffocating_  hug. His arms locked when you returned it, hearts beating as one while he thanked his lucky star,  _thanked_ what ever powerful deity above that granted his  **wish**. He found  _you_. You were alive and the proof, the  _evidence_ , was in the way his fingers touched all he could. Mind re-familiarizing every crevice, every smoothness,  _every_ curve of your body. Your warmth, your  **breath** , every atom of your essence.

 

“ **I’m sorry** , my love,” he confessed, guilt laced in his voice, “I didn’t keep my promise - I  _never_ meant - “

 

You pulled away, shook your head, gripped the back of his neck then  _ **kissed**_ him.

 

Every dark corner in his mind lit up, every  _wilted_ feeling flourished, every icy shard  _melted_ from his heart. Your kiss granted him warm, rejuvenating love and,  _oh_ , it felt as if the last 10,000 years were gone. He was back in your comforting lips, deepening the lip-lock with a wet swipe of his tongue just like the times those moon flowers bloomed around you two. This was  **real** and his mind, his fractured mind, still could not  _believe_  it.

 

“ **I love you** ,” you whispered between kisses, “I  **still** love you, Lotor.”

 

The declaration softened the edges of his once razor sharp, steely heart.

 

“Forever,” Lotor pressed his forehead against yours, taking in your breath of life to merge with his own,  **“I love you, my moon, forever and always.** ”

 

You cradled his cheek in your hand and the Prince let one tear slip from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“I have so much to tell you, so much has happened,” your hand was entwined with his as the two of you sat across from each other, food fresh but laid forgotten, “I don’t even know where to start.”

 

Lotor kept his stare on you and rubbed a gentle thumb over your knuckles. He had many questions, too. Where were you? What  _happened_ to you? How did you make it off Daibazaal? All of those concerned your past and he was sure you were wondering whether he had survived after that initial year had rolled over. The main question, though, the one on his mind ever since he was stabbed in the thigh was his top priority.

 

“I have a  **son** ,” he softly spoke in slight hesitation, knowing the implications of leaving you alone, pregnant, would only eat him alive, “He...he is  _my_...after all this time? When did you…?”

 

“Yes, Lotor, he has your eyes,” a motherly softness glazed over your face, “Your hair, skin. Even your  _stubbornness_ and _over-calculating_  brain. He is so  **smart** , Atlas.”

 

Lotor’s pride  _swelled_. Any bigger and he might burst, but he tampered himself when your smile wavered. There was a haunting look behind your eyes which kicked his instincts to cradle both of your hands in his own bigger ones. _I’m here for you, my love. Here now and forever. Nothing will take me from you now that we are together._  The Prince kissed your fingers gingerly, making sure each one felt his lips.

 

“Tell me, my love,” imploring eyes begged you to share with him, share with him everything he missed over the years.

 

“It was years after Daibazaal fell when I found out. We all knew tension was rising between your father and Altea, that king,” a minor detail you forgot, “I flew off the planet. Me and a few others. Everyone scattered, trying to get away from Zarkon’s wrath. All that happened, all that destruction was less than a year, Lotor. I couldn’t wait for you. I  _had_ to run, I’m  **sorry**.”

 

Another kiss, this time on the inside of your palm. _I do not blame you, dear. Never. You did what you had to. Do not apologize for surviving._

 

“We hid on this planet. Made a home here, me and the rest of the half-breed population. I met a new family who took me in and, I - somehow, they knew I was carrying before I even did.  _Stars_ , I was so  **scared** , I didn’t know what to do. They helped me through it, through all of it, but…” you trailed off, brows pinching, before sending him a  _begging_ look, “Lotor, they took them. They took half of us to be slaves, the Galra, they made a station here. They took Atlas’  _family_ , everyone who helped me raise him.”

 

Lotor was aware of the slave encampment the Empire created here. It wasn’t uploaded into the database until recently when they started shipping quintessence from an unknown source. He checked every enslaved planet since then, only the ones with a majority of half-bred Galra populations. It really was by pure luck Lotor picked the  _right_ planet at the  _right_ time.

 

“I’ve been  _trying_ to fight, join the resistance, but we don’t have the resources. The  **skills**. I knew you would eventually find me, Lotor.  ** _Never_** doubted you, I just had to wait, I had to last,” and what better planet to hide in than one full of other half-breed Galra, “I had planned that when you found me, we would leave. Me, you,  _our_ **son** , leave this place and run away to find a safer world.”

 

“We can still do that, my moon,” he ushered with a gentle squeeze, “I have a fleet. We can leave right  _now_. I will take care of you and Atlas like I should have all these years ago.”

  
  
“I  **can’t** , Lotor,” now, you broke eye contact and looked at the grains in the table, “I can’t do that to him. Atlas was  _born_ here,  _raised_ here, his family. It’s all  _here_.”

 

Prince Lotor was looking at you in a new light, an  ** _admirable_** light. You grew, you planted your roots here, raised Atlas in an environment thriving with love, and you  _evolved_. Not just for yourself, but for your  _son_ ,  **his** son, and now that Lotor found his family, he would do  _anything_ to fiercely protect what you built with your own two hands. His determination was yours, everything that is  _him_ , belonged to  _you_.

 

“I don't want my  **war** to fall on our child’s shoulders.”

 

“Mama?”

 

Both of you snapped your attention to your son standing at the doorway who was looking a little  _uneasy_ at the sight of Lotor holding your hands. Atlas was listening, he heard everything, and he was too damn  _sneaky_ for his own good. And too damn  _smart_. He understood what was going on with the slaves and the wars. The resistance and the fighting were not new to him. Why else would you have taught him how to use a blade?

 

“Atlas, _little star?_  Yes?” his ear tipped down in embarrassment at the baby name, “Did you finish your dinner? Go ahead and put it in the sink, I’ll get to it soon.”

 

 **Little star**. Lotor will remember that.

 

“Actually, Mama, I - I wanted to know if,” Atlas glanced down at the empty plate in his hands then back up to meet the Prince’s eyes, “Is it okay if I talk to Lotor?”

 

Now, this.  _ **This**_ was not what he was expecting. Lotor was planning on speaking to his son in the morning. He needed time to figure out what to say, what he could even  _explain_ , to Atlas. How do you miss your  _only_ child’s birth, miss his  _upbringing_ , then suddenly chase him in a dark alleyway? So far, Lotor knew he was not on the right foot with him.

 

But Atlas asking  _first?_ That bravery was from  **you** , not Lotor.

 

You glanced at your soulmate and he nodded. Pushing yourself off the chair, Atlas handed you the plate and you went on your way, giving them the privacy they needed. Lotor was still injured, so he could not stand, but his son refused to sit across from him. He stood stock still just a foot or two away from the foreign Galtean, hands at his side and eyes studying his father.

 

“Atlas,” Lotor softened his facial expressions, knowing that his resting face was intimidating in the most unfortunate kind of ways, “ **I am sorry**  for attacking you. I was in error and I swear -  _ **swear**_  - I will  _never_ lay a hand on you again. I promise on my  **life**.”

 

Lotor was  **not** going to follow Zarkon’s footsteps. He gave no reason why he chased after Atlas, no excuse for crossing blades with him and had every intention to cause serious harm to him.  _Nothing_ could justify why this Prince rashly fought a child, not even his poorly lapse of judgement when he thought his attacker? Was  **you**. Instinct or not, Lotor needed Atlas to know that he was  _truly apologetic._

 

 **Nothing** condones his actions.

 

“It’s,  _uh_...It’s fine...mmf... I didn’t mean to stab you,” Atlas’ shoulders hunched a bit in discomfort before he reached behind him and pulled out that glowing moon blade from his belt, “I had no idea you were  _my_...I wouldn’t have if I  _knew_. Zarik just told me to lure you in the alleys back then and I thought it was the right thing because I wanted my family back and he said we could use you to end it all so I waited and I -”

 

 _Stars and moon above_ , Atlas really was  **just** like Lotor at that age. Unsure, believing he was doing the right thing with his heart, and a little lost. Deep down, beneath the surface, the Prince could see clear as day why his son was apologizing. You made him soft, yes, he expected that. But Atlas also wanted a  _father_. Under all the glares and anger of not being raised with one, seeing Lotor here with his Mama, both of them  _happy_ , Atlas realized he wanted that. He wanted Lotor to  _ **stay**_.

 

He was just not sure how to  _express_ that.

 

Lotor unconsciously smiled at Atlas’ rambling then held his hand out, silently asking for the blade. He gladly relinquished it and the Prince took his time to take in every detail he created within it. The glow was  **strong** , etchings still visible under the light, and the edges were remarkably sharp. Finest craftsmanship in Daibazaal, but that is not why Lotor made it with his own blood, sweat, and tears.

 

“I  **love** your mother, Atlas,” he spoke with such  _conviction_ , a fondness that made his son’s ears twitch, “These vines are proof of it. They glow with my quintessence, no matter  _where_ we are or how  _great_ the distance.”

 

Prince Lotor offered it back to him, returning it to its rightful owner with his nails peeking out of his hands. Atlas cautiously took it, the realization dawning on him that this was  _more_ than just a simple dagger. He did not quite understand all of it, all those sappy emotions radiating from the Galtean before him, but Atlas found that if Lotor and his mother were happy, then he can be too.

 

“I  **want** to stay here, I  _need_ to stay here, with  _her_ , with  _you_ ,” Lotor was a humble man before his child, “If you will have me, my...my  _ **son**_.”

 

Atlas’ eyes widened at Lotor’s words, then he quickly replied, “ **Yeah**. I, uh, I mean,  _yes_ , that’d...that’d be cool. I’d like that...erm...P- ** _Papa_**.”

 

They both had a mutual forgiveness of their mistakes and Lotor was going to do right by his son, now and  **forever**. His heart was already weak when he heard Atlas test “Papa” on his lips. The Prince could not stop his soul from elating in utter joy and slight nervousness for the future. He was prepared,  _ **ready**_ , eager to be the father, the  **husband** , for his family. Lotor will  _ **not**_ fail them a second time.

 

* * *

 

“Acxa, there has been a change of plans. Initiate Operation Darwin.”

 

“Sir?  _Sir!_  You’ve been gone for weeks, what happened? We’re tracking you now -”

 

“There is no need, general. I am fine.  _Better_ than fine. Stick to the operative and report to my location once the mission is completed.”

 

The line went dead and Lotor knew his top general would follow through with no mistake. Darwin states that survival of the fittest through natural selection is the key to evolution. However, what the theory leaves out is the main component of an individual's  **will** to compete,  _survive_ , and reproduce.  **Dedication**. Unwavering  _ **commitment**_ in the face of danger.

 

As Lotor cuddled you against his chest with orbs overflowing with pure love, he knew that fate made the  _right_ choice for the both of you.

 

“Lotor, stay with me tonight?”

 

He heard the trickle of fear in your voice,  _fear_ that he would be gone in the morning. Lotor cupped your cheek, gently running his thumb over your lips as his eyes hooded in devoted loyalty. Then, slowly, he lowered his lips to seal with yours,  _ **worship**_ you, and pour every inch of his being, his  _passion_ , his  **heart** , into this one kiss. The fire in his soul  _burned_  for you, his one and only.

 

My wife. My celestial  _Goddess_. My  **love** for all of eternity.

 

“I would want nothing more,  _ **my moon.**_ ”

  



	2. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Lotor takes his family out for Atlas' birthday.

 

  


 

 

Lotor was  **home**. His heart was full and his mind was at  _peace_ , something he didn't think he would get to experience again after being trapped in cold solitude for ten thousand years. Sensitive fingertips finally had the chance to touch his beloved’s soft skin, caress where his memories faintly recalled. Needy lips can kiss, lick,  _suck_ ,  ** _bite_  **anywhere his wild desire wishes. And his body? Oh, the Prince found solace in his soul mate’s arms, whether in a loose hold or in  _desperate_ , clinging grasps.

 

“Oh,  **Lotor**!  _Lotor!_ ”

 

His hips were hammering  _relentlessly_ into you, the wet squishing sounds tingling in his ears while the both of you became engulfed in pleasure. Lotor had one hand cupping your cheek, pulling that deep,  **rumbling** purr from his chest, and his other was holding your waist flushed to his body. There was  **no** space between you two and he would have it  _ **no**_ other way, especially with how his pelvis was rubbing your slippery button _oh **so**_ wonderfully.

 

He was grunting,  _whimpering_ , completely lost in all that is you and,  _stars_ , there were tears beading at the corner of his eyes, “My love, my  _moon_ , my -  _mmf_! Oh, yes,  ** _yes_** …!”

 

The familiar heat warmed up his cheeks, indicating to the both of you that he was close to reaching climax for the third time that night. You had lost count how many times he made you scream and  _writhe_ in your own orgasm, but there was nothing stopping the two of you from continuing until exhaustion claimed you both. Lotor had a healthy sheen of lover’s sweat covering his form and you could feel the powerful,  **needy** force behind every thrust.

 

With your thighs wrapped around his slim waist and arms wound over his shoulders, he truly was completely  _overwhelmed_ in every sense. He couldn’t contain his sensual groans, his  ** _possessive_** growls, the way his hungry teeth sought to mark your neck as a testament of his love. That devilishly,  _slick_ tongue made its way to trail along the length of your throat, your jaw, before delving deep into your welcoming mouth with a searing hot kiss as a gift.

 

“M- _Mmf_! Lo -  **AH**! Lotor, I’m coming _, I’m coming!_   ** _Please_**!” you yelped between breaths, brows pinched as he continued to ravish you with his lips, take in every word and moan like the greedy man he was.

 

And he truly was. He got a  _taste_ of fatherhood and now he wanted  **more**.

 

Lotor kicked up his pace, faster and  _faster_ , as the bed creaked and banged against the wall noisily. His  **thick** cock was tunneling into you mercilessly and,  _stars_ , he knew he was leaving a sticky mess. Webs of his cum and yours left a soaked, wet spot underneath you, but with your inner walls spasming in the face of another oncoming orgasm, your mind cared very little about the sheets right now. Your soul mate pressed his forehead against you, nose nuzzling in  _aching_ desperation and the closeness showed you all the love radiating from his nebulous eyes.

 

Lotor let out a  **snarl** and then a string of shaky,  _stuttering_ moans before his knobby knot slipped within your walls with a  _pop_ , making you cum with a pleading wail of his name. He was trembling from overexertion, hips completely stilled as his large shaft pulsed to pour his hot load within your clenching womb.  **Milk** him,  _take_ it, grant him another child, another to call his own. Both of you were panting heavily, enduring that precipice only this kind of love could grace you two with after all these years apart.

 

His excess seed oozed out of the tight space and he leaned into your kisses softly pecking his glowing marks, “Mm...more.”

 

 _More_ kisses.  **Now** , please.

 

The lover’s haze was thick between you two and, of course, you  _happily_ granted his wish. Another kiss on his blushing cheeks, one on his nose, the corner of his lips, then he took over from there. Lotor licked along the seam of your lips, no need to ask for access when you  _willingly_ parted for him. It was a soft kiss, light pressure, tongues dancing and tasting each other in old familiarization.

 

He pulled away, eyes hooded with undying affection and a string of saliva keeping you connected to him. But, the  **best** connection was at your joined hips, and he would stay there as long as  _he_ wanted, as long as  _you_ wanted. A comfortable, easy smile spread on his face and he sighed not at all unlike a content, spoiled cat. Tucking himself under your neck, Lotor let his fingers  _wander_ , just touching you while you skimmed your palm over his back. A lover’s caress.

 

“Speak to me, my moon,” he selfishly commanded, “I  **miss** the sound of your voice.”

 

And, well, after ten thousand years, he wants to hear  _ **every**_ little thing you had to say.

 

“ _Thank you,_  Lotor,” your hands found their way to the back of his head and you started combing his mussed hair, “For  _this_. It means the world to Atlas.”

 

The Galtean man chuckled, “We shall see when we land.”

 

“This will be the  **best** birthday gift he  _ever_ had, Lotor,” you cupped his jaw and gave him a chaste kiss, much too short for his liking, “He always wanted to travel. You’re a  **great father**.”

 

He was not  _quite_ so sure about that, but hopefully this was the right step towards his son.

 

* * *

 

 

Atlas squirmed under your doting care, hands holding onto your wrists but not quite pushing you away as you wrapped a deep-blue scarf around his neck. He was covered head to toe with plush, warm clothing, from a beanie with a bun tail to thick mittens to at  _least_ three pairs of socks covering his toes. Shoes were on, he was set, but still, you couldn’t help making sure he was ready for his first adventure off of Planet Falerd.

 

“ _Mama_ ,” he sounded exasperated, “ _ **Please**_.”

 

You, too, were all cuddled up in layers of clothes, as well as Lotor, but he knew that this planet was cold and precautions were  _needed_. While he was more adapted to handling the chill, Atlas grew in a rather temperate and humid climate. This sudden change  _may_ make him feel like he was freezing his wee toes off. You patted your son’s cheek, gave him a quick smooch, then stood up and looped your arm with your husband’s elbow.

 

Lotor raised a brow at Atlas as he scooted  _closer_  to hold your free hand. The view of his family by his side...it made his chest pleasantly  **warm**.

 

“Ready to see snow, Atlas?” you gently squeezed his small claw paw when he nodded eagerly, that signature Lotor hair strand swishing with the motion.

 

“Shall we?” the Prince motioned for the ramp to lower, immediately letting in the cold, gust of wind.

 

Oh, and when the view of pure, white snow met Atlas’ eyes, his mouth parted in childlike  **awe**. He  _never_ saw snow before, only heard about it from your stories, but seeing it before him right now? His legs automatically led him forward, pulling you and, consequently, Lotor as well. Excited, he was smiling gleefully and his eagerness was a breath of fresh air for the Prince.

 

“ **Wow**! It’s-There’s so many!” Atlas released his grip on your hand in favor to TOUCH the white powder, “Mama,  _look_! It’s like sugar!”

 

Proudly, he had scooped up the snow and held it up to you as if you weren’t able to see this  _amazing_ piece of nature in his hand. Then, he immediately turned around to hide from both of his parent’s view and  ** _shoved_** it in his mouth. Taste testing it to make sure this really wasn't a planet made completely of sugar. Lotor’s brows shot up in  _bafflement_ , not at all expecting his son to just...eat it.

 

“Hm,” he pat pat his hands on his pants leg to get rid of the leftover powder, “Tastes like water.”

 

And before any of you could tell him it  _WAS_ water, Atlas was already marching ahead to explore, to wander. An itch of panic rose in Lotor’s chest, voice ready to call him back when he was a few feet outside of his comfort radius, but part of his mind told him “ _No, he will not listen to you_.” The  **doubt** , it weeded his brain in the most inopportune moments. You sensed his hesitancy, saw the mix of emotions behind his eyes, then gently patted his forearm.

 

“Atlas, not  _too_ far, okay?”

 

“Yes, Mama!”

 

Oh, foolish. If Lotor had said it, he wondered if he would have heard, “ _Yes, Papa!_ ”

 

On instinct, he began walking towards his child and pulling you along for a calm, morning stroll. It was an overdue date of sorts, a time for you to be with him  _freely_ , a time he could simply enjoy the moment of  _peace_ with his family. This day was for him, his  _son_ , and he hoped Atlas could fill his little heart’s desire to experience something  **new**. That was what Lotor wished to pass down to his heir, the seed of  _curiosity_ , though judging by how far he had trotted off, he was already well on his way to becoming an avid explorer.

 

It made him feel  **proud**.

 

“You know,” you interrupted his thoughts, garnering his full attention, “I told him stories about you, during our younger years on Daibazaal.”

 

Lotor studied your face, “Did you tell him about my  **horrible** acne?”

 

“No, no, I saved a bit of your pride. I figured  _you_ can tell him that when the time comes,” a light laugh and his heart fluttered, “His favorite stories were when we would play hide and seek. He likes that game  _a lot,_  but didn’t really have anyone else to play with when his friends were imprisoned.”

 

You stopped walking, making him halt mid step as well. Gently, you slid your hands to cup his face, that face hiding his uncertain role as a  _father_. Lotor’s fingers sought to hold your hips, keep you close and flushed with him in this chilly forest. So  _stoic_ , so stone faced, but you always could read him without fail. Softly, you guided him down for a much needed kiss of encouragement, a little something to wash away those  **doubts** floating behind his cosmic eyes.

 

“Lotor, he  ** _loves_** you more than you know,” you stroked your thumb over his cheek as if wiping away any more hesitation from his end, “Try not to look so  _scared_ of your son.”

 

“I am  _ **not**_ scared.”

 

A pout, a teasing raised brow, and he  _growled_ in warning once realizing he may have spoke too soon.

 

“I...I am  _ready_. I am  _prepared_ ,” Lotor took a deep breath then exhaled a puff of warm air, “But I do not know  **anything** about him.”

 

Lotor’s own father knew  _nothing_ about him as a child. Perhaps, there was an inkling of  **fear** that he was already following in his accursed footsteps.

 

Your eyes relaxed at this vulnerable side of your lover, his arms pulling you into a supportive hug, “I raised him so far with an  _open_ mind, my love. You know he  _wants_ you in his life. That counts for something, right?”

 

He... _gulped_. One second, he was rearing and ready for more children, the next, he had no plan on how to approach his  _own_ kin. Lotor was brave,  **strong** , but right now with his family, his confidence was  _fleeting_. Coming and going and, of course, he didn’t like that. Then again, maybe he didn’t  **need** a plan. Let his instincts take over once they push through his tactical personality, which seemed to  _always_ stunt him in the worst kind of ways.

 

“Now, go get him while I gather some ice berries,” Lotor hesitantly let you pull away from his hold, a little nervous by your command, “I want him to try a few and maybe take some back home. You will be okay?”

 

“Yes.”  _No_. 

 

You offered him one last pat on his chest and turned to leave in another direction, completely missing the forlorn look on his face.

 

_**Wait**. I do not know what I am doing._

That was his  **problem**. He wasn’t in  _control_ and he knew with children,  _especially_ one like Atlas, control was  **not** something to be used between them. Between their developing relationship, between  _any_ relationship. Lotor steeled his shoulders, trying  _so_ hard to be the firm and royal Prince he was groomed to be. A  _worthy_ father for him to look up to,  _rely_ on,  _believe_ in during tough times ahead. It was important to Lotor that he was a good role model for Atlas since  _neither_ of them grew up with one in the first place.

 

Lotor was going to change that, but  _stars_ ,  **where** does he even begin?

 

“Mama!”

 

His ears perked at the distressed sound of his son’s voice crying out.

 

“ _Mama_!  _ **Mama**_!”

 

And just like a switch flipped on, Lotor was  _sprinting_ towards the desperate cries belonging to Atlas. Was he  _hurt_? Did something get him? Oh, the  **panic** rose in his chest at that thought. What if he was bleeding out this  _very_ second? What if he was being  _kidnapped_? Who would  _ **dare**_ harm his child? Suffocate his mouth to stifle his cries? It made his blood  **boil** just thinking about it! He would  _murder_ any who would consider laying a hurtful hand on -

 

“ **Atlas**!” he yelled out in determination after not hearing his son’s call for a few seconds.

 

Silence, before he heard, “L-Lotor!”

 

The Prince skidded to a halt, kicking up snow, then  _frantically_ looked around the area. Dormant trees, the occasional boulder, but no view of his child. He gritted his teeth, straining his ears to listen for  _anything_ out of the ordinary, anything that could point him to where Atlas was. Then, he  **heard** it. A sniffle, but it was  _above_ him. There, high atop the tip of a tree branch, was the familiar deep-blue scarf wrapped around a tiny body.

 

Oh,  **stars** , that was  _way **too** high _up to be safe.

 

“Atlas!” he squinted his eyes to see his little legs shaking and arms clinging to the tree trunk, “Come  _down_ from there, it is not safe!”

 

“I-I  **can’t** ,”  _oh_   _no_ , he was scared,  _frightened_ , Lotor could hear it clear as day, “I’m  **stuck** …”

 

He could wonder how in the galaxies he got up there later, but right now, Lotor didn’t even think  _twice_ before he started scaling the tree.

 

“Hold on, Papa is coming,” he announced, more to  _himself_ than his son since he was too far up to hear him, “Just stay there, okay? I  _ **will**_ come get you.”

 

Once Lotor was right besides him, Atlas turned to face his father with streaks of sapphire tears staining his cheeks. It tugged his weakened heartstrings to see him so distraught, so  _terrified_ in his wee body that he was glued to the spot. The Prince scooted closer then opened his arm in offering for him to seek refuge in. Atlas, his son, so  _brave_ , but he was still just a  **child**. Still vulnerable to the fear of heights, especially those that are  ** _TOO_** high.

 

Two, maybe three story buildings? No problem for him. This tree? Now,  _that_ was  **too** much to handle.

 

But Lotor didn’t hold him accountable for feeling scared at all. He was  _worried_ for him, yes, but more importantly he was  _here_ to help. Atlas  **saw** that. With globs of tears beading at his eyes, he shakily clutched his arms around his father’s neck. He was hanging on for  _dear_ life and the Prince felt relief wash over his tense nerves once he  _secured_ him to his chest. Atlas was trying to be  _tough_ in front of his Papa, but Lotor  **never** wanted him to feel like he  _HAD_ to be brave.

 

His father was here to support him and he  ** _needed_** his son to know that.

 

But  _stars_ , how do you console a crying child?  _His_ crying child? Lotor could feel him trembling still, even as he made a slow, cautious descent back to ground level. He tried giving him  _soothing_ shushes, followed by words of  _“It is alright, I am here_ ” and “ _I have you, my son_.” Yet, his efforts were for naught, it wasn’t  **enough** to quell Atlas’ terror-stricken mind. Once his feet stabilized in the snow, Lotor brought his hand up to calmly caresses up and down his back.

 

Atlas wouldn’t _ **let go**_ of him.

 

“That…” the Prince started, unsure of his next words, “That was a pretty good...pretty  _good_ hiding spot.”

 

Yes, those were the magic words. His son’s thoughts switched to  _listen_ to Papa.

 

“You know, you are really  **smart** to hide up there, I  _almost_ did not find you,” a little praise to chase away the tears, “Do you think...we can play again?”

 

Atlas had stopped crying and he actually leaned back a little in Lotor’s hold, back enough that he could  _look_ at his Papa’s softened face. He brought a hand up to wipe at his child’s face, thumb brushing away any evidence that he was weeping mere moments ago. There was no fuss on his end, which the Prince took as a good sign. A  _very_ good sign. They had a moment of  _awkward_ , silent staring, wondering what the other should say.

 

“...Uh-huh,” Atlas nodded sheepishly, “I wanna play…”

 

“Is it okay if we hide  _behind_ trees this time?”

 

Another nod of yes, this time more eager.  _That’s a good idea._

“Do you want to go down now?”

 

Much to his surprise, Atlas shook his head no, then tucked himself  _back_ into Lotor’s comforting hold.

 

“Not yet,  **Papa**.”

 

And the Prince? He was  _stunned_ , mind blank, and eyes wide at the turn of events. Part of him wasn’t even  ** _sure_** what happened, but a new, complete feeling filled his chest. Before, Lotor didn’t  _quite_ know where his place was with his son, with his family. Now? With Atlas’ trust  _erasing_ all those doubts, his own personal  _fears_ , it was obvious to all the known universe who he truly was in the eyes of his child. Lotor was just a  ** _fool_** who couldn’t see it clearly.

 

Atlas  **loves** him,  _relies_ on him,  _trusts_ him, and that thought alone brought a delightful warmth to dust over his cheeks.

 

_I **love** you, Papa._

 

* * *

 

 

“So, was it worth it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re sick.  _Our son_ is also sick.”

 

Lotor grinned cheekily at you from underneath the comforter, Atlas resting peacefully on his chest while the both of them were flushed with a typical cold. They had played  _too_ much and paid the price for it with sniffles and sore throats. You were the one that lucked out, possibly because you weren’t foolish enough to bury yourself in snow as a “hiding” spot. Regardless, you fit yourself next to your husband’s side, cuddling into his body as he secured a hand on your waist.

 

This is a moment he will  _never_ forget, holding  **his** family in his arms. He won’t forget the sense of peace, of  _love_ , of  **home**.

 

“He is  _strong_ and  _brave_ ,” Lotor’s free hand came to tuck that strand of silver hair behind Atlas’ ear, “Like his  **father**.”

 

_I **love** you, Atlas._

 

The prideful heat in his heart spread to his cheeks once more and he smiled in  _pure happiness._

 

This was  _ **his**_ family and he was damn proud of himself, of  _you_ , and of his  **son**.


End file.
